From Your Hands I Did Fall
by Sandywolf
Summary: Gaara, kidnapped by the Akatsuki, is faced with two choices: Death or complete cooperation. Wishing only to return home to the ones he cares for, he becomes the newest S-ranked ninja. And thus, begins his fall into the pits of insanity. M/M ANGST.
1. Lock and Key

This fic DEMANDED I write it. It started out as a daydream in a long car ride, but I tweaked it a bit to make it work. And even though it's not going in the direction I intended it to, I can still work with it.

ALSO. Forget anything and everything you know about Naruto. Because I'm going to totally Screw. It. Over. I stopped reading when Gaara and Naruto shook hands at the end of the kidnapping arc, and in this fic, I've totally changed EVERYTHING. Well, most everything. So just deal please, lol.

**PAIRINGS:** DeidaraxGaara, SasorixGaara, NarutoxGaara, and TobixGaaraxMadara. You'll see just how they work eventually. There'll be lots of angst in this fic, and molestation. But he'll, uh, like most of it. Lol.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Naruto. Obviously, lol.

**Warnings: **I'm gonna pull some freaky stuff in this fic, so just be careful of the warnings at the top of every chapter. So far, there's nothing bad, so read freely, lovelies!

* * *

_I'm not really sure how all of this began._

_I'm not even sure just how I arrived in this place. _

_One day I just woke up and... there I was._

_It sounds strange, I know. But it's true. _

_And even more so is the fact that it's also a lie._

_Everything was always a lie._

_I knew how I had come to be in this situation, and the pain a certain individual had gone through to keep it from happening. I also remember how futile all of it was. All his efforts._

_I hurt him._

_We hurt him. _

_They hurt him._

_That's in the past, though. It was so long ago... almost, what, a year? And while a year sounds like the simple blink of an eye to you, in my position, it's nearly a lifetime._

_He hurt for a year, weighed down by his grief and longing until it became too much._

_He doesn't hurt anymore._

_But from the very moment he stepped out from that overhang, onto a balcony softened by sand, his life changed dramatically._

_This is the story of a soul stronger and braver than anyone had ever known._

_And this, dear reader, is how he fell from the hands of God._

* * *

He hated when she woke him like this, her hands cold as ice as they smoothed across his knuckles. It was unnecessary, unneeded, because he was already awake. He was always awake. Her voice, though familiar, always made him tense as she pulled away the blinds, no matter how soft and calculated it was. He sat up, the bones in his spine creaking angrily. Ignoring the pain, he rubbed gingerly at his eyes. He'd tried so hard this time. Tried so hard to fall asleep. He was in control, he knew it, and it was fine for him to doze for a bit. But it hadn't worked. It never did.

"- council wishes to speak to you of the tax raise. I wouldn't listen to the old geezers myself, to be honest. The villagers pay enough taxes as it is, you know what I mean?"

He didn't reply, because he knew that just the sound of his voice, slightly hoarse and very deep, would scare her away. There was too much history behind that voice to not be afraid of it.

So when her head turned in his direction, her hands wringing out a cord of washrag over the water basin at his bedside table, he simply nodded. "It's still so early, though. If you'd like, I'll tell them you're feeling a bit ill, and perhaps that will convince them to hold off on the meeting just a tad longer?"  
She broke off in a lilting question, more unsure of herself around this boy than any other. Even if he was her baby brother. When he failed to nod or grunt or give any indication that he had heard her, she made a grumpy sound deep in her throat.

"Gaara, are you even listening to me?"

He paused, his eyes having settled on a dove outside the window, and shook his head a fraction of an inch. This stilled her. "You're acting a bit strange this morning. Are you actually, truly, sick?"

She made no move to check his forehead, but placed the dampened rag in her hands across his palms.

"Hold that across your forehead for awhile, I'm going to go get you something to eat."

She was halfway out the door before he had the chance to say something, and even then, she almost didn't hear what he had said. A careful, _'No, thank you.'_ "Fine, fine. Be a twig for all I care." She smiled. "Sure you don't want anything? Anything at all?" Gaara shook his head, held her eye contact for as long as he could, then turned back to the dove strutting on the balcony rail. She brushed a stray loch of hair from her face, defeated, then strode from the room.

Gaara pulled at the threads in the washcloth, the pads of his fingers moist from the water it held. He made no move to put it against his head, though. He felt fine, after all. She just didn't understand, she couldn't.

_'Temari... you must secretly despise me. I wouldn't blame you... if you did.'_

He'd had a lot of time to think lately, seeing as how he was only really needed at social gatherings, which he inwardly feared, and meetings, which he openly avoided. Each involved human interaction, and he feared that his past stood like a lurching beast behind him, scaring the living daylights out of all who beheld him. He himself was frightened sometimes, when he caught his eye in the mirrored reflections of water and glass. The gaunt creature staring back at him looked cold and hard. But inside, he was trying to hold his panic at bay.  
He felt like he'd come a long way though, from how he'd used to be. How relentless he'd been before he'd met a certain blond.

Of all the thinking he'd done, he'd thought the most of that blond. Of Naruto.

The bed creaked as he tossed aside the silky violet covers on his bed. The floor was cold against the pads of his feet, and Gaara strode quickly to the balcony, intending to sun himself before he met with the elders. He wanted to check out that dove, too. They were very rare in this part of the world after all. He'd just reached the double doors that led outside when there was a knock at his door, and he quashed the childish instinct to roll his eyes. With one last glance at the bird, he closed the balcony doors. His ears registered the startled squawk of a bird, and then all was silent save for the thumps at his door.

"Yes?" He said as gently as he could as he opened it a crack. On the other side his brother, Kankuro, stood all in black, his face paint still drying on his skin. As the door opened Gaara could see his brother flinch in reflex, but he misunderstood and felt a twinge of guilt in his heart. Kankuro hated him, too. And for good reason. He'd been so cruel for so many years, and now, as sane as he was, he was paying for it. Kankuro, on the other hand, recovered quite quickly.

"Hey, Gaara. Temari said you were acting kinda strange, so I thought I'd walk you to your meeting. If, uh, that's okay, of course?"

It struck him odd at first how his siblings were treating him. Like he was a child, or something precious. Temari had never been such a mother hen, after all. It seemed to him that maybe they just felt like they were treading on very thin ice, and that at this moment, it was best to just stay on his good side.

"Alright."

He left the door to clothe himself and slip on his well-worn sandals, and, once that was done, they were off.

* * *

The double doors leading off from the main branch of the Sunagakure palace were guarded on both sides by men in various shades of black and gray. They bowed deeply to him, murmuring a respectful, 'Kazekage-sama.' To Kankuro they only nodded, their eyes once again turning to the long corridor before them.

Kankuro led him as far as the next set of doors, beyond which sat the council of elders Gaara had come to dread meeting with. His brother scratched idly at his painted face, then made a sound in his throat that seemed more like an attempt to break the awkward silence. When he turned to face the puppeteer however, Kankuro was already backing away.

"I've got to get back to Temari. I promised to help her get ready for her trip to Konoha, and she'll be wondering where I am."

Gaara nodded, inclined his head, and then watched as his brother walked away. He didn't know it at the time, and if he had he might've said a little more than a garbled goodbye, but that was the last time he would ever see his brother and sister again.

The meeting, as he suspected it would be, was terribly boring. He sat vigilantly at the head of the circular table, his eyes placid and half-cast as the men and women around him argued. As Temari had said, they were interested in raising the taxes, because, as one red-faced man put it, the security around the circumference of the village was quite horrid. And, furthermore, that was where it mattered most. If they raised the taxes, they would have more money to pay more ninja, and then their village would be a more safer one.

"We must protect our people, and our Kazekage, at all costs." Said a withering man. His eyes were mere slits, his face awash in wrinkles. The tiny tuft of hair he still had was combed to the side, and he occasionally patted it back down as it tried to spring back to full height.

"Of course, but _you _try telling them that. They don't want to pay more than they already do, no matter how much safer it will make them. Now what we need is more volunteers willing to put time in for the village. Who needs to more money when we've got the support of the blood of our village to aid us?"

A collection of murmurs and nods ran about the table, but one man gave a loud grunt and began rambling again in a furious rage. And then, much to his disdain, the elderly woman to Gaara's right turned to him.

"What do you think of all this, Lord Kazekage?" She whispered, although, Gaara feared, she wasn't doing it on purpose. He remained calm, though, and simply shook his head in defeat.

"They cannot seem to come to a decision. I fear for the future of our village."

"Do not fear." She said simply, the corners of her eyes rising as she watched the men around her argue. "They fight for the good of the village, and their intent is pure of heart. Besides, as long as we have a leader as calm and calculated as you, we won't have to fear the village falling to ruin."

She nodded to herself, and Gaara thanked her politely. He couldn't say it in words, but what she had said filled the great void in his heart. The nagging doubt in his abilities as leader.

After all, he hadn't wanted to be Kazekage in the first place.

"I think we're done for the day." He said suddenly, surprising even himself as all eyes turned to him. As one the council turned to eye the large clock at the head of the room, and when they realized the meeting had run well over three hours, a collective sigh was released.

"Alright. Enough for today, we'll pick up where we left off next Monday, same time. Don't be late." The woman who said this, a particularly sharp-eyed old woman, looked pointedly at Gaara. "That goes for everyone."

A few members of the council hung around to further discuss their opinions on the condition of the village, but Gaara was not among them. His head was beginning to throb with the hum of the speech around him, and all he wanted to do was return to his room. From there, he'd probably find himself on the roof of the palace. It was his favorite place to be in Suna, a place where he could watch the moon and the stars and not feel like a bug tacked to a board. He didn't have to make anyone happy or nod mindlessly to old men and women. And the only one to judge him and his misdoings was himself.

He couldn't walk fast enough.

* * *

Something was... off.

At first he couldn't pinpoint it, and as he toed off his sandals and re-affixed his gourd to his back, it occurred to him that something or someone had been in his room whilst he was out. At first, everything seemed to be in perfect order. But he could sense it, could smell the foreign scent. The scent of man.

He acted like he hadn't noticed anything as he padded across the room. The balcony door was firmly shut, but the curtain was pulled across the door. Temari had thrown them just a few hours ago.

The doorknob was cool in his hands, and he turned it quickly, suddenly feeling like someone would rush him from behind. He threw the door open, realizing he'd left it unlocked this morning when he'd left, and took a few steps onto the balcony, the wind rifling through his hair. He stopped, waited, and then noticed something that chilled him to the core.  
The dove was still perched on the railing. But now that he could get a closer look at it, he realized it was no dove. And, as he stared back at the bird, he shuddered.

It had no eyes.

The balcony door slammed shut behind him.

A voice, smooth and sultry at his neck, whispered, "Locks, Lord Kazekage. They're there for a reason."

And thus, his plummet from innocence began.

* * *

Who is interested so far? Anyone at all?

_Reviews Are Love!~_


	2. Sacrifice

Updated quickly, because I've got no life right now. Tomorrow though is the last day before school starts, so I won't be updating, I don't think. This weekend should probably be the next update.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto.

**Warnings: **Violence, angst, crazy Deidara and implied yaoi.

* * *

The key to dealing with crazy stalkers, mercenaries, and maniacs was remaining calm. If you slowed your heart rate, remained rational, and didn't jump immediately into battle, usually you could sway off the attackers. And then, when they least expected it, you would have the advantage, and the opportunity, to throw the first punch.

But Gaara didn't feel calm. And he didn't even have the chance to try and settle before the man behind him was aiming a kick at the small of his back. And even though his gourd softened the blow, he was sent flying forward, soaring over the rail and the sightless bird. He turned in the air, back aimed at the ground, and reached out with a thick rope of sand to grasp the rail and hang on as he fell. It caught, stilled his descent, and his attacker was on him once again.

Gaara caught a flash of ebony hair before his eyes rolled back. The air in his lungs left him as a boot caught him square in the gut, and both Kazekage and villain plummeted towards the sandy ground below.

And even though sand was supposed to be soft, it felt hard as rock when his back slammed into it. It surely didn't help that the man assaulting him had used him as a pillow for the fall, and as he coughed and wheezed the man stepped nimbly off him.

"I've come to ask you something." He said softly, a kunai appearing in his hand. Gaara tried to memorize his face along with the flash of silver metal, but his sight was fuzzy. He rolled as the blade descended for his neck, and a wave of sand erupted from beneath him. It lifted him high into the air, separated into a dozen different steps, and he ran from pillar to pillar of crumbling sand as fast as he could. Below him his assassin was slicing through the platforms, dashing after him faster than Gaara could have ever imagine.

The palace, now that he looked up at it, was still very far off.

"Stop running away, I only wish to speak with you. If you'd just settle down, I wouldn't have to use violence against you."

Gaara scoffed, teetered on the edge of a falling platform, and dove for the ground, his hands forming the symbols for a jutsu he'd not used in quite awhile. As he hit the ground, he slipped and fell on his stomach as the sand beneath him floated into the air. His attacker watched calmly, kunai in hand, as a thousand needles formed above their heads.

Gaara would feel them as a light rain. His attacker, however, would be pierced over and over, each blow more devastating than the last. And, he thought to himself, it was almost always a fatal attack. As the needles fell, however, and his attacker only stood there, Gaara began to fear the worst.

This man was much more powerful than he had thought.

A field had appeared around the man, an invisible aura that shattered any needle that came in contact with it. Gaara watched, wide-eyed, as the attack dragged on and on, never once breaking the barrier. When at last the final needle fell, useless, to the sand-strewn ground, the red head gulped.

"Are you done then?"

He looked up into the face of a man he had never met, never seen, and was blinded by the glint of metal on his forehead. The man, noticing this, cocked his head a fraction of an inch to the side, and Gaara could see the symbol for the leaf village.

But that wasn't what made his heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

The slash through the middle did.

"Akatsuki?" He said breathlessly, the word like poison on his tongue. He'd been warned so often to avoid the organization at all costs, and here he was, completely vulnerable on the ground, looking one of their S-ranked criminals right in the face.

A face he found somewhat familiar now that he really focused.

Ebony hair in a delicate frame, fine eyebrows and charcoal eyes... yes, he'd seen that face on one other, a much younger, but easily comparable set of features, indeed. This man, whoever he may be, was obviously an Uchiha.

He spoke then, voice smooth as mercury and just as poisonous. His words held a very comfortable power, and he was in no way defensive.

"I think you know why I'm here, Kazekage. So if you'll just come along quietly, I won't have to hurt you."

At that, Gaara found himself offended.

"Just what were you trying to do a minute ago, then? You attacked _me_ first, which I would find to be in the category of hurting someone."

"I was simply letting you know what I was capable of." The Uchiha replied lazily. He reached down and, with very feminine but powerful hands, yanked the red head up from the sand. Gaara, to his amazement, found himself dangling a good six inches off the ground. Gourd or no gourd, he somehow knew it wouldn't have made a difference. But he wished very much for that familiar weight on his back, and eyed the contents of said container on the ground longingly.

It twitched at his gaze.

The Uchiha shook him.

"Don't get any ideas. I'm very serious about hurting you."

"Hurting? Yes, I can tell." Gaara spat as the mans hands twisted in his shirt. He choked at the weight on his throat, and found the sun to be blinding him once again. "But you can't do anything to me, not really at least."

"I could kill you quite easily, Lord Kazekage."

"And yet I'm still alive." He growled back.

"For now."

The Uchiha, whose temper seemed to flare quite quickly, pulled him closer.

"You'll see soon enough how special a situation you're in."

And, suddenly, Gaara was in the air again. The Uchiha had thrown him, full-strength, as far away from him as possible. Gaara spun in the air, reaching out with his hands, and pulled the sand to him. It formed a cocoon and tightened around him, but still exploded on impact as he collided with the side of the palace wall. He coughed in the thick air, rubbing at his stomach, and gingerly stumbled to his feet. His attacker stood stock still where he had been before, eying him passively.

Why had he thrown him?

"Itachi sure does have an unorthodox way of working."

Gaara spun on his heel, caught completely by surprise at the voice to his right. He'd spun too fast, though, and pin-wheeled his arms to say upright. He felt like an idiot, and didn't take well to looking a fool in front of these people.

The one before him, after all, was definitely in league with the Uchiha.

This man, who Gaara found amazingly strange, was entirely blue. He stared in open-mouthed wonder, gaping at the villain, until the man made a sharp noise in his throat.

"Kind of rude, aren't you? If you keep your mouth open like that, you're going to get a mouthful of sand."

His jaw snapped closed with a chink of pearly teeth, and Gaara glared at this intruder. This mans headband, which was christened with the symbol of Kirigakure, was slashed straight through the middle.

Gaara swallowed around the knot in his throat.

"What do you two want?"

The man blinked at him, looking for all the world the fish he resembled. Confused, he turned towards the Uchiha, who shrugged.

"I haven't properly explained our appearance yet. Not completely, at least." He said simply, and the blue man nodded.

"Right then. Well, we're here to bring you back with us, obviously, or you would've been dead already. But you see-"

"Kisame. He doesn't need to know all the details. It's best if others do that, anyway. All we need to do is get him back to Headquarters."

Headquarters? Details? Gaara's head was spinning, his stomach aching, and he wished only for the moment when all of this would be explained. He knew, though, more than anything, that he could not go with these two. He would fight, at all costs, to get away. The palace was right behind him after all, if he could just run fast enough...

"Should we cut him up a bit more? Make sure he doesn't get any ideas on the way there? You remember that last Jinchuuriki. The kids are always especially slippery..."

"No fatal wounds. Just break his wrists or something."

Appalled by how casually they spoke, and how easily it came to them to speak of such horrors in placid tones, Gaara was given the courage to take a deep breath, and quickly formed the seals he knew he would need.

The blue haired man was the first to turn his eyes back to the Kazekage, but by then it was too late.

The ground erupted beneath them, and Gaara was sent spiralling into the sky, the sand twisting around him and propelling him further and further upwards. He heard a curse from below, and smirked to himself. The balcony he had fallen from earlier came into reach, and Gaara reached out to grasp the cool railing in his hands.

Easily he leaped over it and the sand that had carried him up fell back down, blanketing the ground and the two men who had been scaling the palace wall to recapture him.

It seemed, as he dashed across the balcony to the heavy double doors, that everything was going to be fine, and that he was home free. He would run inside, call for help, and then the guards would help him take down these two mysterious men.

Heart pounding in his chest, he took a firm hold of the door handle and pulled.

It didn't budge.

He yanked at the door, pounded his fists against it, kicked once, twice, three times, and even threw a massive whirlwind of sand at the glass. But it stayed the same, completely unhindered, mocking in it's cool complexion. He could see his bed through the curtains on the other side of the glass, and he let a small sound of despair strangle itself from his throat.

He was trapped outside, and the only other way in was through the front of the palace.

Which, much to his agony, was on the other side of the building. And this building, as elaborate as it was, easily spanned a mile from one side to the other. He would never be able to outrun the Akatsuki men, and no one would be able to hear him from this point.

Gaara blamed himself for adamantly refusing the guards who had offered to stand out on his balcony. Even more so he hated himself for requesting the balcony to be built in the first place.

But he'd needed to get away, to get outside the palace when he couldn't sleep.

Because staying inside, locked up like a canary, drove him absolutely insane.

Time was ticking, the clock running down.

He heard a flutter behind him, and his heart stopped.

Time had just run out.

Whirling, sand coming up to sheild himself and lash out at the same time, Gaara felt the sand connect with something solid, and much to absolute disbelief, the world exploded all around him.

The balcony doors shattered under his weight, and Gaara found himself rolling across his bedroom floor. His head hit the metal feet on the bed, and his vision spun.

What the hell had caused that?

He staggered to his feet, casting around his room with panicked eyes. Sand covered the floor, fluttered across his bedsheets, and settled on the desk to his left. One of the balcony doors lay on it's side in the floor, the other hanging on by only one hinge. He stared wide-eyed, gulped, and prayed that help came fast.

A crunch outside his door made him freeze.

Gaara didn't wait to see what or who was there. He knew, no matter how strong he was, that he couldn't win. And even though it crushed his pride to ask for it, he knew he needed help.

He needed Kankuro and Temari, of that he was certain.

So he darted for the door, nearly tripping over a shard of wall plaster, and then thought better of it.

He couldn't have Akatsuki running around the palace hallways after all.

So what to do?

At first, the answer was obvious. Go out and face them himself, sacrifice his own well being to save his people. But at the same time, wouldn't that hurt them as well? A twinge of hurt nibbled at his heart, and all his old fears resurfaced.

His village didn't need him. Nor did they want him. The council had more reign over Sunagakure than he did, anyway!

He was afraid, yes, but he knew that this was for the best. This would be his final act as Kazekage. He would save his village at his own expense, and maybe, just maybe, they would honor him a bit when they realized his heart no longer beat.

Quickly, wondering just why the men hadn't appeared yet, Gaara swung his arm out and smoothed the sand on the floor. With shaking fingers he wrote in large letters his final words. He worked quickly, keeping it short and to the point, and then stood away, careful not to disturb the sand.

A pane of glass snapped behind him, and Uchiha appeared before him, his face as calm as it had ever been. His hair, however, had sand interwoven in it's ebony strands, and when the man spoke, clipped and angry, Gaara fought not to run.

"You're coming with us_ right now_. Come here."

And Gaara did. He held his head high, looking for all the world the fading Lord he was, and then stopped at the mans side just as the blue one appeared on the balcony. He, unlike the glass-like Uchiha, was panting quite heavily. His fingers were also itching deftly at what could only be gills, and he let out a groan as a stream of sand trickled down his cheek.

"Little bastard clogged me up. Lucky he's so important, or I'd beat him within an inch of his life and then eat him."

"Calm yourself." The Uchiha said as he pulled Gaara to him. His fist was harsh on him, and to his disdain, the man squeezed harder. Knees trembling, Gaara let out a gasp of pain as the man broke his wrist. And, as he feared, it had been to the man as easy as snapping a twig.

"He shouldn't be too much trouble now." He said shortly as he pushed the trembling red head towards the blue man. Gaara, as weak as he was becoming, almost fell to his knees as the towering figure before him clapped a hand on his shoulder. The strength he felt in those palms was more than he had ever felt before, and Gaara began to wonder if this decision had been wise.

He had no clue as to what he was in for, after all.

The ebony haired man strode from the room and onto the balcony, calm and collected as could be. Gaara was steered out of the room as well, but as he stepped into the sun, he nearly dashed back to the safety of his bedroom.

Perched on the rail was another sightless bird.

This one, however, was ten times larger.

Gaara whimpered when it chirped at him.

"Deidara's here after all, huh? I thought those were his birds I saw earlier."

The blue skinned man made a noise of disapproval, but the Uchiha was actually nodding towards the bird.

"I think we should give the Kazekage to him."

"What? Why?"

"Because it would be much quicker, and we could get on with our next target today if we did so."

"Admit it. You just want to go drink in that tea house we passed."

The ebony haired man hummed deep in his throat.

And then another, stranger sound appeared at Gaara's side. He turned his head slowly, not sure what to expect, and came eye to eye with a clear, cerulean optic.

The arrival of this man surprised him so much that he bumped heavily against the blue skinned man, who growled at him. Or, at least, Gaara thought he was growling at him.

"Damn blondie. Always appearing where you're not wanted, aren't you? Now I've gotta spend another night in this damned hot village."

Gaara watched as said blond regarded the towering man with a thoughtful eye. He scoffed, waved off the villain, and then turned his gaze back to Gaara.

Leer was more like it. Gaara swore the mans pupils dilate quicker than a pouncing cat, and he gulped when the man grinned maniacally at him.

"Give him to me." He said in a voice that was rich and menacing, yet playful at the same time. It spoke of a quick temper, but also of a good-humored individual.

Gaara didn't like him very much at all.

But the hand on his shoulder was shoving him away and into the arms of this cerulean eyed man, who Gaara decided to name Deidara. That's what the Uchiha had called him after all.

The scent of clay and earth invaded his nose, and Gaara felt himself being pulled up into strong, corded arms. Deidara held his arms down and lifted, bringing them eye to eye. Gaara held very still, tried not to shiver, and briefly considered spitting in this criminals face.

But he remembered the rules of dealing with, as he classified this one, maniacs, that you should remain calm. So even as the blonds tongue ran over his bottom lip in a gesture of hunger Gaara remained still, his own dry lip trembling.

Deidara laughed.

"I like this one, un. Much prettier than the last one we caught. Perhaps, before we get back to Headquarters, I'll give him the good old Akatsuki initiation."

"You're to take him straight to Leader, Deidara. If I find you've done something otherwise, I'll ask Sasori to kindly gut you."

"He wouldn't listen to you." Deidara grumbled, but he put Gaara back on his feet, leading him over to the bird. "We'll go then, and I'll send a bird when we arrive." He paused, kneading his fingers on Gaaras shoulders, then said, "Why are you leaving him to me anyway? I thought you'd be a little more angry with me for interrupting your mission." He sounded a bit disappointed, Gaara noticed.

"We have things that need tending to." The Uchiha said, and with that he stepped across the balcony and over the railing, quickly descending for the ground and the village beyond. Gaara prayed he wouldn't harm anyone while he was there.

The blue haired man grunted a noise of goodbye, and he too disappeared over the rail, leaving Gaara and his single captor alone.

Deidara grinned down at him.

"Guess we'd better book it then. If we want to have a little free time." With a wink he picked Gaara up and leaped atop the bird, settling cross-legged with the red head in his lap.

"I can sit on my own, thank you." Gaara growled. He was mad at being treated as such, and for the first time, the thought that he may be able to get away from this single man occurred to him. Deidara wrapped his arms tight around his waist, squeezing until his bones began to creak under pressure. Gaara scrabbled at his hands, groaning, as the blond said, "I know. But I like it better this way. And, just a warning... don't try to escape. I'm a lot crazier than you think. I won't be afraid to discipline you should you decide to try anything funny." He growled into Gaara's neck to emphasize his point, bit down on the soft flesh to carry it further, and the red head went limp. Deidara hummed in approval.

And, with a brisk whistle from the man, the bird shuddered beneath them, it's wings spreading to it's full span. Gaara watched in horrified fascination as the bird rose to full height, flapped, and then hopped from the railing.

His heart leaped into his throat.

* * *

Formatting looks a bit messed up to me. I'll fix it later when it's not two 'o clock in the morning. Who's enjoying the story, hmm? -Smiles-

_Reivews Are Love!~_


	3. Escape Discovered

I've started another school year, Junior year to be precise. Updates will be a tad slow, but I'm working as fast as I can. I like to write in one sitting, so I can't write if I don't have time. Short chapter now, but the next one will be longer.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto.

**Warnings: **Violence, angst, crazy Deidara and Yaoi.

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Gaara knew he wanted nothing to do with this man.

He knew he didn't want to be in such close proximity, or to feel the heat from Deidara's broad chest against his back. But he did, and he hated it.

But he hated flying one hundred miles an hour towards the ground more. Add to that the fact that they were nose-diving, and what you got was a completely out of character shrieking red head.

He realized then just how much he hated flight, and unbeknownst to him, that fear would continue to fester for a very long time.

Deidara was laughing at him, his arms circled tightly, possessively, around his waist. With a short series of staccato whistles, the bird was pulling up, flapping, hovering, then twisting for the horizon. Gaara's stomach lurched, and the only thing keeping him from purging was the lack of food in his stomach.

The wind was in his hair, cold and solid like fingers, and it was then that Gaara realized that he, miraculouly, wasn't falling off the bird. It lurched a lot, after all, and being made from what seemed to be something as smooth and cold as stone, he'd thought they would have slid right off. He blinked, confused and cold, his heart pounding like a hammer in his chest, and then reached up to dry his watering eyes.

His hand wouldn't respond, though. Not correctly at least.

He tried the other, found the same problem, and his heart stopped.

The air was cold, his hands on numbed, and they'd done so whilst he'd been clamping them onto Deidara's thighs.

He swallowed.

It must've happened when they'd taken off, somewhere between the whimpering in absolute terror and the silent prayer he'd thrown at whatever Higher Power decided to listen. He'd thought they'd fall off, so he'd instinctively tried to keep himself aloft.

Unfortunately, he'd chosen the worst place to attach himself to.

What if this... this... _creep_ got any ideas? What if he thought Gaara _liked_ grabbing him there?

"You're like a cat." The man suddenly said, nuzzling the nape of Gaara's neck. He froze, waited for the blond to stop, and when he didn't, Gaara's pride reared.

The frailty of human noses surprised him, seeing as how he'd never broken his own. When his skull collided with Deidara's, Gaara felt the sickening crack of cartilage and smelt the tang of blood. It made him dizzy, almost, to a point, that he forgot what he'd just done.

Attacked the man whose hands literally held his life.

He expected a knife to the throat or a swiftly snapped neck, instead he found cool fingers in his hair, gentle at first, then violent as they pulled his neck backwards, craned him away. Deidara's breath fanned out across his cheek, smelling earthy and clean. Gaara flinched when the blond nuzzled his cheek, smeared the too-pale flesh with fresh blood.

"Fight back while you still can, because soon enough _you will learn your place_."

A tongue touched his cheek, laved roughly, and then Deidara retreated, mindful of his nose, and the two carried on in silence.

Gaara's heart fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird.

As the rolling desert dunes began to give way to grass and foliage, Deidara gave a sharp whistle and the bird lurched forward. Gaara bit back a shout as the bird nose-dived, careless of the snapping trees branches and the cold wind. Their landing was more of a crash than anything else, and Gaara sighed with great relief as he fell from the bird.

Grass had never felt so soft and wonderful beneath his fingers.

He wondered why they'd stopped, though.

Turning his head, Gaara looked over to the blond man that had brought him here. Deidara was leaning casually against his bird, arms crossed over his chest, cerulean eyes staring intently back at him. Gaara gulped. Those eyes made his skin crawl. Dried blood caked Deidara's upper lip, swept over to the side in an ark of varying shades where the blond had tried to lick it away.

Gaara decided to be brave, to stay the man he was, and said, "Why did we stop? There's nothing here."

To his horror, Deidara smirked and said, "I know."

And then he was pushing away from his bird, stalking towards him with hands like claws. Gaara didn't wait to see what exactly the blond planned to do. His hands were already twisting in the grass beneath him, his muscles working to push him up and off the ground. He staggered, let out an animal-like noise of panic, then turned and dashed for the trees.

Limbs and twigs snapped at his face, slashing his eyes and cutting his lip. Gaara kept running, though, his pulse rising as his ears turned themselves to the nimble footsteps behind him. Deidara was only feet away, his eyes burning holes into Gaara's shoulder blades, his cool breathe ghosting the nape of his neck. Willing his feet faster, his eyes sharper, Gaara hurried on, _knowing_ he could _not_ let this man catch him again.

Stumbling down a muddy bank, Gaara splashed through a shallow creek, sweat beading at his temple. He stopped, looked in ever direction, then noted a low-hanging branch over the creek. Behind him he could hear Deidara crashing through the branch in pursuit, and Gaara knew he had to get moving.

Jumping up onto the branch, he scaled the bark, hoping the damage his sandals did to the leaves wasn't too noticable. Once situated in the tree, which worked quite well as camouflage, Gaara listened for the man chasing him. The leaves swaying around him were lush, but as he pushed them aside, he found he could peer through them, and hoped that whoever was on the other side could not see him at first glance.

For a moment, all he could hear was the blood roaring in his ears and the sound of birds overhead. But then, to his anxious horror, the creek erupted in a fountain of water, and Gaara peeked out from his hiding place once again to watch Deidara pace the bank bellow. The red head concentrated on slowing all his bodily functions, measured each breath carefully. He had to stay completely quiet, had to hide the stir of chakra flowing around him.

Deidara turned his head this way and that, fiddling with something on his face. His long blond hair was in the way though, so Gaara couldn't tell just what exactly he was doing.

_'Probably just an itch, don't think too deeply on it... just focus...'_

Suddenly, the blond froze, his hand becoming very still. He cocked his head to the side, listened, and then smirkd. Before Gaara could begin to worry about whether or not the man had somehow heard him, the blond was running into the tress, leaving Gaara and his hiding place behind.

Gaara almost sighed in relief, but stopped himself. He couldn't risk being caught now, not by something so simple. Not when freedom was so close. And yet, he reminded himself, so far.

Kankuro hadn't heard a sound from his brother in quite awhile now. And while that seemed a not so unusual thing considering how distant the Kazekage was, he still worried that maybe, sometimes, Gaara was just a bit _too_ distant.

_'He needs people around him, ones like that crazy leaf village kid. Maybe if there were more like him, Gaara wouldn't walk around with that sad face so much...'_

He couldn't, and wouldn't, blame him, though. It wasn't Gaara's fault he was so inverted. It had started at the boys very birth, and his insecurity, and acute madness, would probably follow him for the rest of his life.

_'He could at least try to look happy, though. For the villagers at the very least.'_

Kankuro sighed, massaged his temple carefully, then looked out the window to his right. He was sitting in his favorite chair, legs crossed and thrown out across the desk. His eyes followed the sand outside as it fluttered about, completely without worry or duty. Sometimes he wished human life was as simple as that.

A life without worry or responsibility. It would be quite a welcome thing after all this hardship.

Grumbling to himself that he was becoming too much of a brooder, Kankuro gripped the arms of his chair and swung his legs to the floor. A stack of papers followed, but he ignored the mess as he padded across the room.

He could go see Gaara, maybe take him into the village for a little while. The guy needed it, after all. Needed to get out of the palace and out into the sun for awhile.

_'He only ever goes out at night, after all. To stare at the moon and, well, be his usual mopy self.' _

The hallways were empty, but Kankuro paid it no heed. The guards had been called away just a while ago, he'd heard. For a meeting amongst themselves and their leader. A few minutes or so without watching usually didn't make much of a difference, and none of the higher ups, including himself and his siblings, really enjoyed being tailed by guards all day, anyway.

So as he made his way through empty hallways, thoughts of his travelling sister and his brooding brother on his mind, Kankuro paid little heed to the sand crunching beneath his sandals. It was a desert village, after all, and sand was quite often tracked into the palace. But as he progressed through the palace and the sand became deeper and less random, Kankuro stopped and stared at it in confusion.

It seemed to be... moving.

As he watched it, the sand twined around his ankle, tugged, and he followed the line of grain down the hallway with his eye.

It led right to Gaara's door.

Concerned and annoyed with the mess, Kankuro strode down the hall and stopped outside his brothers door, always wary of sudden intrusion. He knocked once, twice, and then waited for a call of invitation.

But the other side of the door remained silent, and as the minutes ticked on, Kankuro began to sweat.

_'He's probably just out on his balcony or something. Nothing to be worried about. He just didn't hear you knock. Open the door and see for yourself. Gaara will look at you and scowl because you entered so rudely, but then it'll all be okay and you can go into town for tea and a bit of fresh air...' _

But when Kankuro laid his hand on the doorknob, it occurred to him that the door would certainly be locked, and he'd be unable to enter the room anyway. The thought annoyed him, but something was nagging at the back of his mind, and Kankuro decided to try the door anyway.

The knob twisted easily in his hand, much to his surprise, and as he pushed the door away from him, he saw that the room was pitch black, and that the only light available was that from the balcony outside.

But... why was it streaming in like that?

He stared, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, and then balked.

The balcony doors were _gone_.

Kankuro ran towards them, praying Gaara would be outside on the ledge, his hands tight on the rail. Perhaps he's just gotten angry and taken it out on his room, something that had happened a few times before.

He was only five steps into the room before something tripped him.

Growling, he stared, wide-eyed, at the twirling sand around his leg. It yanked, tugged, and then finally dragged him a few feet across the room, resting at a place that was open and free of furniture. Kankuro pulled his leg free of the grain, then peered through the darkness.

He could see, but just barely, and without the light from the balcony, he knew he would never have caught the faint impression of sand and lettering under his hand.

Panicing, Kankuro ran for the door, his hand fumbling on the wall for a light. When he hand ghosted over it and he flipped the switch, he blinked to focus, and then turned back to the empty space behind him.

The wreckage of the room barely registered in his mind. The slashed doors and curtains were but a blip on his mind, the sand strewn about the floor hardly a concern.

The lettering within the sand, however, caught and held his full attention.

Kankuro fled the room, his heart hammering fast and heavy in his chest.

The words, hurried and clumsy, read, _'The Akatsuki have come for me. Don't worry about anything, I know what I'm doing. Goodbye.'_

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The formatting is a bit messed up, I'll fix it later. For now, I need to sleep, haha.

_Reviews Are Love!~_


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